


Assembling an Audience

by Suzelle



Category: Historical RPF, Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, American History, Crack, Federal Theatre Project, Gen, Living Newspapers, M/M, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzelle/pseuds/Suzelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eleanor Roosevelt “strongly suggested” that the Federal Theatre Project put on a show featuring the members of the Avengers Initiative, it turned out to be a bit more than any of them had bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assembling an Audience

_There was an idea…to bring together a group of remarkable people, so that when we needed relevant theater, they could perform the plays that we never could._

**May, 1934**

Normally Phil Coulson enjoyed his bimonthly visits to the Val Kill estate.  Mrs. Roosevelt was the consummate hostess, and the trip forced him to leave normal SHIELD business behind for at least a full day (which was intensely beneficial for his sanity). Today, however, Phil was not looking forward to the conversation he knew would have to take place.

Mrs. Roosevelt greeted him warmly outside the house and led him out into the garden. Someone had already prepared them tea, and Phil helped himself to the accompanying cookies as he gave her his standard briefings and updates. 

“…Other than that, it’s business as usual, ma’am,” Phil said, “we’re still trying to get more contacts into the Soviet Union, but we have a new operative who’s been trained for just the thing. And I’ll be off in a visit to the Southwest very soon—there’s a meteorite that hit in New Mexico that’s been causing a bit of a disturbance among the locals.”

“Well, a bit of excitement can’t hurt anyone,” Mrs. Roosevelt chuckled, before pausing and leaning forward slightly. If Coulson were partial to facial expressions, he would have grimaced. _Here it comes…_

“And what of the Avengers Initiative, Mr. Coulson?” she asked, “Are there any updates on that front?”

“Ah,” he said, taking a delicate sip of tea. She looked at him expectantly.

"I'm afraid the Director's been ordered to scrap the Initiative, Mrs. Roosevelt," Phil finally said, "The Council’s been wary of the project for awhile now, and between the Hulk's Harlem rampage and Mr. Stark's, ah...attitude, there's just not enough support to keep it on the books."

“I see,” Mrs. Roosevelt’s face remained impassive, but Phil could see the wheels turning in her head. “Is there anything I might do in my capacity to make the Council change their minds?”

"With all due respect, Mrs. Roosevelt, you're not supposed to know about this project at all," Phil said with a guilty smile, "Informing you was...well beyond my parameters as White House liaison."

"I know, Phil, and I appreciate it immensely," Mrs. Roosevelt replied. "Just answer me this, and be honest about it. What do _you_ think of the Army's decision to abandon the Initiative?"

He gave her a long, leveling look before he answered.

"I think they're giving up too soon," he said, "They might be unmanageable, and Stark's a bit of an ass, if you'll pardon the expression, but...they could do a lot of good, if given the right push."

"That's what I thought," she smiled in satisfaction.

Phil’s eyes narrowed. Mrs. Roosevelt, he'd discovered, had developed an idealism around superheroes that would be charming in another person but was dangerous in the country's First Lady. And the woman was stubborn to a fault.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” she said, “I’m not going to do anything too drastic. I might just…see what I can do to make it so that Director Fury only needs to answer to my husband, and not your Council.”

“I wish you the best of luck in that, ma’am,” Phil replied. Her eyes retained their mischievous glint, but she let the matter drop until the end of the day as he was making his farewells. 

"Don't give up on that Initiative, Phil," Mrs. Roosevelt called out as he stepped into the car, "The world being the way it is, I have a feeling we’re going to need them sooner rather than later.”

**September 1937**

These days, Harry Hopkins never came up to see Hallie in person unless there was something seriously wrong—and even then, he was often infuriatingly absent. So when he knocked on her office door in New York, Hallie knew it wasn’t with good news.

And when he told her that the White House “strongly suggested” that the Federal Theatre Project put on a show featuring the members of the Avengers Initiative, it was all she could do not to throw her hat at him. 

“No,” Hallie snapped, “No Harry, absolutely not. They’re the ones responsible for the destruction of half our theatres—”

“They saved the other half, Hallie, and you know it,” Harry said, “If not for them the entire city would be in ruins, not just Midtown—”

Hallie ran a hand over her eyes. There were some days she still couldn’t believe that New York had been attacked like that from above—like something straight from one of Orson Welles' fantastical tales. In the aftermath she was grateful to have been in the city—she would have felt useless unless she was helping to rebuild from the damage—but there were still nights where she was kept awake by the thought of the destruction that had been wrought. 

“I’m afraid Mrs. Roosevelt’s insisting on it, “ Harry continued, “She’s convinced that these ‘superheroes’ are exactly what the country needs right about now.”

“And Mrs. Roosevelt couldn’t have told me this herself?”

“Hallie, come on,” Harry sighed. “You know she can’t do that with things as they are—she’s got a million different things on her plate—”

"If she’s going to be making demands of my theater she can afford me the courtesy of a conversation,” she snapped, “Harry, we are supposed to be presenting innovative, relevant theater to our audiences. How is a publicity stunt like this supposed to be innovative or relevant?” 

“Mrs. Roosevelt thinks it could be both,” he said, “this is why she wanted me to come and tell you in person, she’s investing a lot in it…”

"You could have come to tell me in person when Congress pulled half of our funding,” she said, “or when Congress passed that absurd legislation to shut down _The Cradle Will Rock_ , Harry, I lost some of my most brilliant minds from that…"

“Hallie,” Harry gave her a look that told her he understood, at least in part. “I know I keep throwin’ you to the wolves here—”

“I don’t care about _me_ , Harry, I care about this Project,” she broke in, “You hired me to do this job, you just don’t seem to care if I do it right…”

“I do,” he interrupted, “That’s why I want you to do this. I know it’s not your usual style, Hallie, but this is important. Mrs. Roosevelt thinks the country needs some morale-boosting more than anything now, and there ain’t a better venue to do it than your theatre—you’re trying to reach as many people as possible, right? Think what it could do for people to get a chance to see the Avengers in the flesh.”

Hallie sighed.

“You can make it relevant,” he said, patting on the shoulder, “Just build one of those, ah, what do you call ‘em, the documentary dramas that cover current events…”

Hallie raised her eyebrows.

“The Living Newspapers, Harry?” she asked.

“Yeah, those!” Harry snapped his fingers. “A chronicle of the Avengers’ latest heroics.  Even the idiots in Congress won’t be able to fight you on that one.”

***

_Western Union Telegram, Sept 21_ _ st_

_TERRIBLY SORRY DARLING WON’T BE HOME THIS WEEKEND STOP BACK TO WASHINGTON TO MEET WITH FIRST LADY STOP WILL CALL TOMORROW LOVE HALLIE_

_Western Union Telegram, Sept 23_ _ rd_

_SPARE ME FROM ARROGANT MILLIONAIRES LOVE HALLIE_

**October 1937**

Hallie slammed the script down onto the table.

“Arthur, this is dreadful,” she said, “We just spent a full summer perfecting one Living Newspaper, I _know_ you can give me better than this…”

“Hallie, I’m juggling four different scripts right now,” Arthur said patiently, “Would you rather have me spend my time on this or on giving notes on _Spirochete_? People aren’t going to be coming to this show to for my compelling scripts, they’re going to come to see Captain America and Iron Man fly around on the stage.” 

“We are _not_ lowering our standards for these people,” Hallie snapped, “I don’t care if we’re toting about walking and talking newsreels, we have a responsibility to deliver quality theater to our audiences…”

“Hallie, you’re not listening to me,” Arthur said patiently. “Put these people in front of your audiences—on a stage, in the flesh—and they’re going to think it’s quality theater. You aren’t even going to need a script.”

“Oh, we need a script for Tony Stark,” she sighed, conceding defeat for now, “I wouldn’t trust his level of improvisation any farther than I could throw that suit of armor.”

***

Less than a week into rehearsals she received a call from Phil Barber, telling her she needed to get back to New York immediately.

“It’s a complete disaster, Hallie,” Barber said, “Half of them are threatening to leave, and Mr. Stark’s insisting on being put on the payroll…”

“Under no circumstances are you to put Mr. Stark on the payroll, Phil,” Hallie snarled.  “Do you understand?”

“Technically he could be put on the 10% of the payroll that’s not for people on relief…”

“That 10% is reserved for experienced actors and directors who we trust to deliver experienced, high-caliber theatre,” she snapped, “Does Tony Stark fall under that category?"

“…no, Hallie,” he said. “Besides, I’m not sure he was completely serious? It’s a bit hard to tell.”

“I’m taking the train up to New York tomorrow, Phil,” she said, her voice softening a bit, “Tell them that if they have any further problems they can wait and take them to me personally.”

“Thanks, Hallie,” Barber said, the relief palpable in his voice, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hallie knew she’d had a fearsome reputation among her students at Vassar, and she intended to use every ounce of said reputation on the Avengers in New York. She had far too much on her plate to focus on a singular disaster of a show, so if they were going to demand her time they were going to feel her wrath.

She had been expecting the most trouble from Iron Man from the start, so wasn’t surprised to see him on center stage, arguing with who she could only assume was Captain America. 

“Listen, Rogers, I agreed to come along to this because the First Lady herself asked, but we’re doin’ nothing but freak-show work with this. They don’t want me to do anything but fly around in the suit, I’m not gonna be bound to some charity-case touring company…”

Hallie approached the stage and cleared her throat softly. The six of them turned to her, the taller ones looking especially surprised to see a woman of her height shooting daggers up at them all.

“Mr. Stark, as I explained to you in Washington, the Federal Theatre Project is far more than a charity case,” Hallie said, “Otherwise Mrs. Roosevelt would not be wasting her valuable time on it. Now, she clearly thinks that your group and mine each have something the other can benefit from…”

“Begging your pardon, Mrs. Flanagan,” Captain Rogers broke in, “and as much as I hate to agree with Stark, he’s right. What do we get from all of this?”

“Exposure outside of New York,” Hallie said, “A chance to market yourself to the people—I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Captain, but you get as much negative press as positive. And a chance to officially align yourself with the United States government.”

“See, I don’t know why you’d think that’s a benefit,” Stark broke in, “Last I checked, none of us except these two SHIELD agents here were signing up for that kind of alliance…”

“I thought you marketed yourself as a patriot, Mr. Stark,” Hallie replied dryly, “I would think that loaning your talents to a government-sponsored agency would make you the consummate citizen.”

“Look, I’m not some circus monkey you people can …”

“C’mon, Stark, let’s help the lady out,” a man with a bow and quiver beside him drawled, “You’ve gotta admit they’re doing good work with this theater. I know at least four people from my circus days who’d be out on the streets if not for them. Mrs. Flanagan here’s only trying to create a theatre for the people by the people, as far as I can see.”

“Why, thank you,” Hallie said in surprise, “I appreciate that, Mr…”

“Barton,” the man held out his hand, “Clint Barton. And you’re more than welcome. You’ve gotta be doing nothing but good if you’ve hired old Norrell. He wrote to me and said he’s working in your Children’s Theatre now,” Barton grinned. “Couldn’t ever do anything but tell dirty jokes while doin’ his lasso-rope tricks, so I don’t know what you’ve got him doing now...”

Hallie hung back to lean over Phil Barber.

“Ah, Phil…” she said, “I know we’ve made some unconventional choices in the past, but…a burlesque vaudevillian in the Children’s Divison? _Really?_ ”

Phil gave her a weak smile. “Was the only place we had room for him. And I’ve heard of this guy, actually—he’s a great hit with the kids. Apparently they taught him some nursery rhymes to replace the old jokes and everything’s right as rain.”

***

As the weeks went on, Hallie discovered that some of the Avengers were easier to work with than others. Captain Rogers was as charming and polite as she would have expected, and carried an affable stage presence that spread easily to the other members. He fought with Stark more often than not, but on the rare occasions that they got along they made more progress in rehearsals when Hallie would have believed possible. Barton was a bundle of energy and more than a bit of a handful, but Hallie found that if she reminded him of his big finale (which involved shooting multiple moving targets from the air) it was surprisingly easy to get him to focus.

Bruce Banner, unsurprisingly, had absolutely no interest in being on stage, but Hallie found that his skills in the sciences made him useful in other ways. He’d already invented a new makeup base that irritated the actors’ skin less, and was working with Abe Feder on perfecting his new light switchboard. He also was creative, as it turned out—he was more than willing to help in the creation of a Hulk puppet.

“If I can’t be in the spotlight it’s the least I can do to help make my replacement,” he’d quipped to her when she eyed him suspiciously.

Natasha Romanov was quick and attentive, and seemed to be the best at keeping the men of the group in line (something Hallie could particularly admire). She studied her lines carefully, even made some suggestions here and there as to how to improve the script.

“You’re really trying to make something out of this Living Newspaper series, aren’t you?” she asked Hallie one night at the end of rehearsals.

“Well, trying is the key word,” Hallie laughed, “It’s like nothing that’s ever been done in the theater before, certainly not in America, at least. We want to get the people thinking about the plays they’re seeing, and we want to present relevant theater to them. And the Living Newspapers are certainly the best venue we’ve managed to develop for that.”

“They remind me of some of the theater I used to see in Russia,” Natasha said. “A lot of plays I’d go to used similar techniques…”

“A lot of my inspiration came from those plays, as a matter of fact,” Hallie said. “I spent two months traveling through Russia and studying modern theater there. This would have been, oh, nearly a decade ago now…”

Natasha let out a soft laugh.

“Did you really?” she said. “The head of America’s government theater influenced by the Soviet Union?”

“Oh, I was enchanted,” Hallie replied, “I would go to the theaters of Brecht and Meyerhold, and they would take every concept of art I held dear and turn it flat on its head. I’ll never forget the arguments I got into with Meyerhold…”

“I knew Meyerhold of old,” Natasha said, and there was a distant look in her eye, “Not well, of course, but I saw a number of his plays as a young woman. He was…a sight to see.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Hallie chuckled, but eyed Natasha shrewdly. “So, how do you think we compare?”

“Couldn’t dream of comparing your theater to his,” the younger woman replied, “Whatever your congressmen have to say, this is American through and through. But…he wanted theater to change things, more than anything else. And whatever else it’s doing, your theater here is certainly changing things. In more ways than one.”

Hallie sighed. She wondered, sometimes, if that was really true. 

***

Hallie was halfway home before she realized she’d left her handbag in the prop room of the theater. She swore and turned back to the theater, muttering to herself about aging and fading minds. She finally reached the prop room and opened the door, only to find Stark and Rogers tangled around each other, looking for all the world like each was eating off the other’s face.

_Ah_ , she thought, _that explains quite a bit._ She turned and shut the door behind her as quietly as she could, but as she made her way down the hall she heard heavy footsteps running behind her.

“Mrs. Flanagan!” She stopped and turned to see Captain Rogers running after her, looking more than a bit terrified.

“I just…” he stammered, “What you saw back there…it wasn’t…it’s not what…”

“I’m pretty sure I know what I saw, Captain Rogers,” she interrupted with a small smile, “But you needn’t trouble yourself over it.”

He stopped stammering and gave her a blank look. Her smile widened.

“Trust me,” she continued, “This is _nothing_ compared to what I’ve caught Mr. Welles and Mr. Houseman doing.”

Comprehension finally dawned on his face and he blushed an even deeper red, staring down at his shoes.

“I, ah…we appreciate your discretion,” he muttered.

“I make my living in the theatre, Captain,” she reassured him, “Believe me, we are the very soul of discretion.”

***

Hallie didn’t make a habit of attending opening night premieres, but the success of this show was important enough that she knew she couldn’t possibly miss it. She expertly dodged the press in the lobby, stopping only to chat briefly with Brooks Atkinson before she slid into her seat midway down the orchestra level. She studied the program (noting with slight disapproval that Natasha’s name had been changed back to “Natalie Rushman,”), and looked up in time to see Bruce Banner settling into the seat next to hers. 

“Not helping with the lights, Dr. Banner?” she asked.

“Nah, Abe said he didn’t need my help,” he answered, shaking his head. “Really, he didn’t need much of it in the first place, he knows this stuff like the back of his hand. I just wanted to try and be useful in some way beyond, well…puppets.”

“You’d be surprised, Doctor,” she chuckled, “puppets are becoming more and more popular in our theatres these days. Our Children’s Theaters sell more tickets by the day, or so our reports tell me…”

“Heh,” he snorted, “Well, I doubt your Children’s Theaters would want much to do with a giant green rage machine.”

“Doctor, we’ve got newspapers already telling us our children’s shows are Mother Goose Marx, I don’t think a rendition of your alter ego would do much to phase them. Besides, this day and age, I imagine a lot of children would look up to a rage machine such as yours.”

He smiled a little at that, but just as he opened his mouth the lights dimmed in the house, and Hallie turned her attention toward the stage. 

The offstage Voice of the Living Newspaper began his opening monologue, and cut quickly to the action scenes, going through a remarkably realistic pantomime of the New York battle. Hallie had to admit, they did all paint a grand picture on stage together…until Captain America flung his shield a bit too enthusiastically and it slammed into the lights hanging from the balcony. The audience gasped, and the stage went dark.

“It appears we, ah, might be dealing with a slight technical difficulty, folks!” Steve said, all charm and reassurance, “Not to worry, it’ll just be...”

“Hold on, Captain, I’ll fix this.” Stark, who Hallie suddenly realized was wearing his real Iron Man suit, powered the thrusters and zoomed up to the balcony lights.

“Just one moment, there, ladies and gents, it should just take me one moment to fix it…” there was a spark, and a clang, and the stage grew even darker. “Hmm. It appears we might have to avenge New York in the dark." 

“But how the heck am I gonna see my next target?” Barton yelped indignantly.

Hallie buried her face in her hands, looking up only to glance at Bruce in abject horror. To her chagrin, he looked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” she said miserably. 

“Come on, Mrs. Flanagan,” Bruce said, “You put them all on stage together, were you expecting anything different?”

If she had been a less dignified woman, Hallie would have slid as far down her seat as she possibly could.

“Bet you ten bucks the press’ll still love it,” he said reassuringly, “The show’s still going on, right?”

**October, 1938**

Hallie was busy answering mail when she heard a sharp knock on her office door.

“Come in,” she said. Ellen Woodward poked her head in. 

“Hallie, you’re going to want to turn on the radio,” she said grimly.

“Oh God, what now?” she flicked on the switch in trepidation, just in time to hear a familiar voice come through the speakers.

“Congressman Starnes, I don’t know how you can possibly accuse the Federal Theater Project of having communist leanings,” Tony Stark said, “It’s as wild a thought as the notion that you actually make an honest living, and we can’t start spreading that rumor, now can we ?”

Hallie stood up abruptly, turning off the radio and grabbing her coat as she strode out of the office.

“Call me a car,” she said, “we’re going back to the Hill.”

She walked briskly up the steps to the Capitol Building, where Stark was surrounded by dozens of cameramen and journalists begging for a statement.

“Mr. Stark!” she called out, “a word, if you please!”

“Madame Flanagan!” he called back with a smile, “Care to comment on my testimony before the House of Un-American Activities Committee?”

“I’d prefer to do it in private,” she said, “Walk back with me to my office?”

To her surprise, he agreed, so she waited until they were behind closed doors before she turned the full force of her fury onto him.

“Just _what_ exactly are you trying to do here, Mr. Stark?” she said, struggling to keep her voice even, “We’re already this close to getting cut by Congress, the _very last_ thing I needed was a scene like yours today…”

“What?” he asked, “You’re the only one who’s allowed to make a congressional idiot out of Joe Starnes? If you can make that Marlowe crack I don’t see what’s wrong with a couple of jabs on my part…”

“Stark, you are missing the point!” she shouted, “The more they’re insulted the less likely they are to rule in our favor. I shouldn’t have made such a fool of him that day, and I certainly didn’t invite anyone to use my testimony as an example on how to act…”

“Lady, I’m the biggest capitalist there is,” he smirked, “Doesn’t matter what I say in front of ‘em, they can’t possibly accuse you of communism if I’m coming out to support you.”

She opened her mouth to retort but nothing came out. For once, there wasn’t really anything she could say in response.

“Look, Flanagan, I don’t want your theater to die either,” he said, looking unexpectedly serious, “I thought I should lend my voice in support of it. You gonna fault me for that?”

“No, Mr. Stark,” she sighed, “And I appreciate it, I do. Just…just warn me the next time you pull a stunt for us, all right?”

“I’ll have Pepper call you,” he said, and for once Hallie didn’t find herself hating his smile.

**December, 1939  
**

In some ways, Hallie felt like she received more mail in the days and weeks following the Federal Theatre's end than she had combined over her four years as its head. Correspondence poured in from well-wishers all over the country, thanking  her for the job she'd done, or expressing regret that the project ended the way it did. Most validating had been the letter from President Roosevelt, but the one letter that she wound up framing and putting on her desk didn't come until weeks after she returned home to Poughkeepsie, on a long day after sorting through piles of old files.

"Dear Mrs. Flanagan,

We’re sorry that we couldn't do more to save your theater. But you can be damn sure we'll avenge it.

With great warmth and affection,

The cast of _The Avengers”_

Below it was a drawing that Hallie suspected had been done by Captain Rogers. It was a surprisingly elegant tableau of the six of them, though it did feature the Hulk pummeling a man who looked suspiciously like Congressman Starnes. She chuckled to herself and smoothed out the creases in the letter.

Weeks later Harry Hopkins laughed at her when he came to visit.

"After all that, they're the ones you're gonna look at every day?"

"You know, Harry, they weren’t even the biggest trial," Hallie said. "Nothing in this whole project turned out the way we expected. And you know what? I don’t regret a thing."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> All of the “original characters” in this piece were real people, right down to Clint’s burlesque lasso friend. Arthur Arent helped to pioneer the development of the Living Newspaper, Abe Feder revolutionized lighting technology in the theater, and Hallie Flanagan spearheaded the project from beginning to end. If you’re interested in finding out more about the people of the Federal Theatre Project, I highly recommend you check out Susan Quinn’s _Furious Improvisation_. It’s a great piece of history, even if it doesn’t have the Avengers in it!! 
> 
> This is, far and away, the most shamelessly self-indulgent fic I have ever written. I wasn't ever intending to publish it, but my two lovely betas encouraged me relentlessly (thank you, Zopyrus and Salvage!), so...here we are :D.


End file.
